


You Set My Soul Alight

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Crack, Dildos, Fingerfucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Switching, Top Derek, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:45:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek finds Stiles' toys...basically Stiles + Derek + Dildos</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Set My Soul Alight

**Author's Note:**

> Also they only use the dildos in this, in case that impacts things.

It’s a Friday afternoon when the loud staccato of tapping on Stiles’ window pulls him away from Skyrim, he tugs his headphones off of one ear and turns toward the offending noise. He knows it’s Derek before he sees the leather and the hard ridge of his brow and the lips turned down in his perpetual face of impending doom.

Stiles doesn’t even say anything, just waves a hand motioning him inside before he turns back to his game. He hears the soft slide of the window as it opens but Derek has mastered the art of silent creeping, and there’s a shadow falling over his computer before he even registers any movement. Derek stands there, awkwardly, Stiles can’t actually see him, but he can sense the awkward coming off of him, like he thinks Stiles should just _drop everything_ because he’s there. But he can’t even get his betas to do it so why he expects _Stiles_ to, is beyond him. Eventually though, Stiles pauses the game and spins in his chair, raising a questioning brow up at him.

“What?” He asks, blithely and Derek sighs.

“I need your copy of the bestiary,” he says finally.

“What?” Stiles asks, “Why?”

“I-“ Derek starts but he cuts himself off, “It doesn’t matter, I just…where is it?” Stiles narrows his eyes suspiciously and doesn’t answer him. “Fine, I broke the USB trying to put it in, where is it?” Derek reiterates and Stiles rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Were you raised by _actual_ wolves?” He asks, turning back to his game. “Top drawer,” he sighs, jerking his head in the direction of his dresser across the room. The shadow moves away and Stiles can hear the scrape and jostle of the drawer as its yanked open. There’s silence then, Stiles has already resumed his game but it’s a full stop before he realizes that something is off, because there’s no rustling around amidst his socks to find the thumb drive, or the signs of Derek _leaving_.

That’s when he remembers with a sense of dawning horror, controller slipping from his fingertips as he turns. “The left!” He shouts, but he knows it’s too late even before his chair has spun and over shot and spins around twice more, coming to a slow crawling stop facing Derek, whose standing stalk still and staring down at the open _right_ drawer with his eyebrows nearly disappearing from his forehead where they’re raised in silent question.

The left drawer Stiles had designated for his supernatural paraphernalia: the bestiary, an old grimoire that Stiles borrowed ages ago from Deaton, a canister of mountain ash he’d collected over the months and various charms that probably only ever had sentimental value. The right drawer however, the one with his favorite underwear (which Stiles has catalogued) contains…

“Those were jokes,” Stiles says kind of lamely, and he can hear his own pulse, it must sound like a jet engine to Derek. It’s not technically a lie though; the first one _had_ been a joke. After Stiles had turned eighteen he’d bought a pack of cigarettes from the gas mart down the street (because he could) and had spent the next hour browsing a head shop looking at various “tobacco” bowls before buying two rather impressively sized dildos.

He’d promptly gifted the second (shiny silver silicone imbedded with _glitter_ ) to Scott who’d looked absolutely horrified and mortified by the whole thing, and who whispered, “I have a _girlfriend_ ,” at him like Stiles thought he was actually going to lube it up right there and bend over.

“Yeah, I know dumb ass, that’s why it’s a gag,” and Scott had balked at his choice of words before they’d proceeded to spend the next hour sword fighting with them.

Derek just turns to look at Stiles, Stiles catches his eye before looking anywhere else, feeling his face heat up exponentially.

“They smell like lube and disinfectant,” Derek remarks. It’s not an accusation really, more of a casual statement and Stiles’ eyes widen a fraction. He’d tossed them carelessly back in his drawer the night before, after he’d cleaned them; his dad never did his laundry or came into his room anymore, he wasn’t really worried about shoving them covertly beneath his boxers.

Hindsight is really a bitch.

Scott had called Stiles in a panic a few days after the incident telling him he’d lost the dildo in his room somewhere and couldn’t find it. Stiles had nearly wet himself laughing, which only made Scott angrier.

“Sniff it out,” he’d advised, sagely.

“It doesn’t smell like anything!” Scott had whined. “Dude! This isn’t funny, my mom snoops sometimes, okay? Like what if she finds it how do I explain that, she already thinks you’re a bad influence, I can’t believe you bought sex toys!” Stiles had only laughed harder and hung up on him.

So, the first one _had_ started off as a joke. It hadn’t exactly ended that way, when, maybe a month later Stiles had the house to himself and he could watch porn with his headphones off and the volume up and it had been a ‘gay day’ which is what Stiles generally liked to refer to those times when the het and lesbian porn weren’t really doing it for him.

Stiles hadn’t ever experimented with his ass before, it had interested him in a theoretical sense and there had been times when he’d thought about what it would be like to have someone there, fingers, tongue, cock…hands gripping his cheeks tight and spreading him, spreading himself and picturing the weight of another guy over his back, pressing him into the mattress and into him. That night he had the solitude to take his time, to strip down to nothing and he’d ended up fingering himself open with cheap lotion while Colby Keller fucked Dale Cooper into oblivion on his laptop across the room.

He’d wanted to try the dildo and had slicked it up in his hand and felt the heavy weight of it in his wet palm before he lay sprawled across his bed with his ass in the air, braced on his forearms, one arm reaching behind him to stroke the slicked silicone over his balls and perineum, pushing softly at his hole to sweep up the crack of his ass and back down. He hadn’t tried to fuck himself on it, but he came from the feel and the thought, and the barest hint of his hand stroking his erection.

After that he’d gone back to the shop and bought a smaller vibrator and splurged on some actual lube and he’d experimented, practiced, gotten _good_ at making himself squirm with want and need, teasing himself to the edge and back, face down on his bed and his legs spread as far as they would go.

Stiles is aware suddenly he hasn’t spoken, hasn’t even taken _a breath_ and he sucks in air too loudly and Derek is watching him now, eyes moving to the white knuckled grip he has on the arms of his chair to the flush of his cheeks and the nervous sweat gathering at his temples beneath the hair he’d started growing out.

“Can you—“Stiles stutters, “It’s ju-it’s in the other drawer,” he tries, gesturing. Derek ignores him, instead he reaches into the drawer and _pulls it out_ , like he doesn’t obviously know where it’s _been_. The thought of it, of Derek’s strong broad hands and thick fingers handling the toy he’s used countless times, his own hands where Derek’s are now, pushing it into himself. It’s not a leap to the image of Derek over him, Derek working the toy inside him, and Stiles is hard in an instant, cock _jumping_ in his jeans. He can feel the precome slicking it inside his boxers as Derek just wordlessly stares down at the toy.

Stiles’ lips part but no words come out, just the sound of breathless indignation. He stamps out the thought and jumps up out of his seat, chair rolling back and smacking his desk. He stalks over to Derek and knocks the dildo out of his hand, it lands silently in the drawer and Stiles slams it shut. He catches Derek’s gaze briefly, and if his eyes look a little dark, his pupils a little blown, Stiles figures it’s the dim lighting and the cloud cover.  

Stiles moves to yank the left drawer open, but Derek is standing in the way and it smacks him in the hip but he doesn’t flinch or move. “What the hell, Hale?” Stiles asks, teeth clenched, face still flushed with embarrassment, but voice hard and defiant, like he’s daring Derek to say something, to laugh. Derek doesn’t look like he’s even considering it an option, and that, is somehow more nerve wracking than the alternative. Derek’s hand captures Stiles’ wrist in a firm but loose grip and Stiles looks at him, confused and surprised.

“Why are you getting so defensive?” Derek asks.

“Why are you so fascinated by my dildo collection?” Stiles counters, and this is possibly the most ridiculous of all their interactions thus far.

“They threw me,” Derek says with a shrug, but he lets Stiles open the left drawer finally, shoving the usb into his hand.

“Well now throw yourself out the window,” Stiles suggests, stalking away from him.

“You have more than one,” Derek says, it’s a statement but there’s the hint of a question in it, and he still hasn’t made to leave yet.

“So?” Stiles asks, turning around and crossing his arms over his chest, willing away what he knows must be an obvious erection.

“That’s a pretty expensive joke,” Derek says, watching him.

“I had a groupon.”

Derek is staring at him with an expression of open consideration, twirling the usb deftly in his fingers. Stiles reaches behind himself to try and find his chair as Derek makes his way to the other side of the room, he turns around and leans against the open window like he’s come to some sort of conclusion and says, “mine were one of the only things I had shipped up from New York.”

Stiles eyes widen and he backs up in surprise, trips and sits down, misses his chair by an inch and falls to ass on the floor. Derek sighs and shakes his head, eyes closing exasperatedly. “Okay!” He shouts, voice cracking. “Yeah, no that would be my top priority, with the evil fighting and everything,” he nods. Derek is looking at him like he’s trying not to laugh.

Stiles pulls himself to his feet and makes a show of dusting himself off, trying to avoid Derek’s gaze.

“Though I prefer when someone else…,” Derek starts, and he gestures with a wave of his hand, “wields them.”

“ _Wields_ them?” Stiles asks, sarcastic, brows knitted together in a look of mocking incredulity, “only you,” he says, shaking his head.

Derek huffs in frustration and irritation, “yeah and only _you_ would harp on about semantics when someone is asking you to fuck them with a dildo,” Derek counters. Stiles looks at him blankly, words not registering, blinking slow and then in rapid succession like he’s sure Derek is a hallucination.

Derek just raises a brow expectantly.

“Say what?” Stiles asks. Derek slips the usb into the pocket of his jeans and uncrosses his arms from his chest, stalking towards Stiles now. Stiles is pleased he manages to stand his ground as Derek looms closer.

“I want,” Derek tries, “you to _fuck me_ , with your _dildos_ ,” he enunciates.

“They’ve been in my ass?” Stiles says, voice sincerely concerned and confused. He’s having a hard time with this. Derek lets his head fall back and he sighs.

“Oh my God, Stiles!” Derek shouts.

“This is a lot to process, okay!” Stiles shouts back, gesticulating wildly. “I thought I had kraft mac’n’cheese and physics homework on the itinerary tonight, okay! I need a minute!”

“Well if you’d rather,” Derek says, gesturing to Stiles’ backpack abandoned atop his desk, and then he turns and heads back towards the window. Stiles makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat and loses his head, jumps up on Derek’s back who shouts in surprise and falls sideways, banging into Stiles’ bed and collapsing down in a heap of tangled limbs atop the messy, unmade sheets.

“You can’t just say something like that and _leave_ what the hell is wrong with you?” Stiles asks.

“What the hell is wrong with _you_!” Derek counters, extricating himself from Stiles’ tight grip.

“I’ve never done this before!”

“I can see why!”

Stiles huffs indignantly. Derek mimics him with a mocking sigh. They’re silently staring at one another for a few more beats. Stiles muses that their relationship has been mile marked by awkward silent brooding but this one sure takes the cake, the pie, the whole damn bakery.

Derek’s eyes slip from Stiles’ to stare at his mouth and where Stiles’ tongue is darting out to lick over his bottom lip. Stiles surges forward then, wraps a hand around Derek’s jaw and kisses him, hard and hasty, teeth clacking against Derek’s. He flushes, embarrassed, but Derek just makes a groaning sort of sound and shifts until he can press closer, his own hand coming up to cup at Stiles’ head and neck, fingers carding through Stiles’ hair and tugging playfully.

When they pull apart, finally, Derek’s eyes are glazed, and Stiles is panting in open mouthed surprise at the whole thing. “Can we fuck now?” He asks, and Derek smirks, pushes Stiles over and straddles him, pulling at his leather jacket and then rushing to tug off the henley he has underneath.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” Stiles sighs, stroking his palms up Derek’s naked abs and chest.

“ _Stiles._ ” Derek huffs, and Stiles nods, “okay, yeah sorry.” Derek lifts himself up enough to start tugging at his belt and the fly of his jeans as Stiles starts tearing at his t-shirt, it gets stuck around his ears and over his face and Derek has to help him the rest of the way out of it, thankfully there’s not enough blood anywhere but his raging erection left to blush with. Derek doesn’t seem to mind the fumble though, he just sort of rolls his eyes a bit and leans down to kiss him again. It’s all tongue this time, lips barely brushing as they grapple, before he nibbles on Stiles’ bottom lip and sucks it wetly into his mouth.

“Oh wow, A+ for you, I’d clap but my hands are…” he says, waggling his fingers from where Derek has his arms held up above his head and Derek looks at them like he’s surprised, but he doesn’t release Stiles, and Stiles only rolls his hips up.

“Hey can we…” Stiles starts, he’s eyeing the bulge in Derek’s boxer briefs, jeans open and tugged down around his thighs. “Can I blow you? Like this?” Stiles asks, and he’s pretty sure this is the politest he’s ever been to Derek. Derek’s looking at him like he’s thinking the same thing and he hastens to tug his jeans the rest of the way off.

Stiles leans up and mouths along Derek’s erection and Derek jerks, clasps a hand around Stiles’ head, helping to hold him up. He pushes Stiles back down after Stiles sucks on the head of his dick, wet spot growing with precome and spit. Stiles smirks up at him. Derek pushes his boxer briefs down, and Stiles mouth opens wider at the sight of his erection, bobbing up, thick and uncut, strong vein running up the underside, his balls are big and hang low between his legs and Stiles makes a satisfied sort of noise because Erica owes him twenty bucks.

“What?” Derek asks, a little self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Stiles says, shaking his head against the bed. “Now, let me suck you off,” Stiles says.

“I can think of no better way to shut you up,” Derek nods and Stiles’ indignant squawk gets cut off as Derek moves forward, sliding his cock into Stiles’ open mouth.  He moves his hands back up to pin Stiles’ arms over his head and Stiles moans around Derek’s cock, heavy and warm in his mouth. Derek thrusts softly and pulls back.

“Have you ever?” Derek asks. Stiles looks up at him, ignoring the question in favor of licking over Derek’s head, but he shakes his own.

“No. But I’ve…” he starts and Derek quirks a brow. “Practiced.”

“On?” Derek asks.

“I’m flexible.”

“Jesus Christ.” Stiles smirks and lifts his head to get Derek’s dick back in his mouth. Derek thrusts forward, tentative, testing. When Stiles doesn’t protest, just makes eager pleased noises Derek starts to fuck him, cock sliding down his throat.

“Lucky for you I don’t have much of a gag reflex,” Stiles informs him, when Derek pulls out again. He sucks him back down with a moan, bobbing his head. He’s only ever managed to get the tip of his own dick in his mouth but he’s practiced on…well really any phallic shaped food he’s ever eaten if he’s being honest with himself. He seems to be doing okay though, if the way Derek panting above him, muscles flexing in his abs is to go by.

“Your mouth,” Derek groans and Stiles pops him out of said mouth and smirks a, “yea?”

“It’s obscene when you’re eating curly fries, this is ridiculous,” Derek informs him, like it irritates him. Stiles laughs and maybe preens a little. “Now, c’mon, your balls are calling my name.” Derek rolls his eyes but complies, shifts forward so Stiles can suck them into his mouth. He pulls back after minute, and pats Stiles on the flank.

“Take these off,” he tells him, as he moves away from the bed to tug open Stiles’ dresser again. Stiles pulls his jeans and boxer briefs off and tosses them onto the floor, lies back on the bed and strokes his own cock kind of absently, watching Derek collect the toys and the bottle of lube he keeps beside them. When he turns back around, his eyes darken at Stiles stretched out on the bed, playing with himself.

“Fuck.”

“Hopefully,” Stiles agrees, and he shimmies his hips. Stiles sits up as Derek crawls across the bed, dropping the toys between them.

“So…how do we want to do this?” Derek asks him and Stiles grabs the dildo and the lube and waves them.

“Lube. Dildo. Ass.” Stiles tells him, smiling.

“Wow, yes, thank you Stiles,” Derek deadpans. Stiles pouts  and Derek pulls him forward with a crushing grip on his hips, kisses the frown away and moves to palm at his ass. Stiles’ cock jerks against Derek’s and he thrusts his hips up to scrape along Derek’s abs.

“I—maybe you could suck me off for a bit?” Stiles asks, catching Derek’s gaze and he nods, nips at Stiles’ chin as he leans down, tugging at Stiles’ cock once before pulling it into his mouth, swallowing him down to the base and back up. “Oh wow,” Stiles says, nodding. He tugs at Derek’s hair as he sucks him, cheeks hollowing out before pulling off and tonguing wetly at his slit, all while looking up at Stiles. He pushes at Stiles’ leg until Stiles moves it, so he’s down on only one knee. Derek pulls off long enough to coat his fingers in lube, Stiles watching him with barely contained anticipation before Derek gets his mouth back on him, his fingers, scrabbling back behind Stiles’ balls until they’re sweeping over his hole and pressing in.

“Oh holy God,” Stiles says and jerks, thrusting his hips back on Derek’s fingers, driving them deeper. Derek hums his approval around Stiles’ cock as he fucks him open with the press of two of his thick fingers. Stiles practically drapes himself over Derek, trying to give him better access as he sucks him off. Eventually though, Stiles has to pull back, because he’s eighteen and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want the party to end before it really begins.

“Okay, okay my turn, get up,” Stiles commands, tugging at Derek’s neck and shoulders a little roughly. Derek obeys, allows himself to be manhandled. “Hands and knees,” Stiles tells him and Derek drops to his elbows and braces himself on his forearms on the bed beside Stiles.

Stiles offers his ass a scrutinizing look before he smacks a palm across the swell of one of Derek’s cheeks. Derek makes a noise of indignation and turns to shoot Stiles a glare.

“No?” Stiles asks, sheepishly. “Okay, no, noted,” he nods. He moves around behind Derek, grabs his own dick at the base to quell the threat of his own orgasm, Derek spread out naked on his bed is wow.

“Oh my…I’m declaring you officially forever President, Vice President and C.E.O of Stiles’ spank bank, now and forever, amen, hakuna matata,” Stiles says, raising his right hand and placing his left on the pink tinged ass cheek.

“Stiles!” Derek snaps, but the effect is somewhat lost in the way Derek’s shoulders are shaking and he has to turn his head to hide the smile. Stiles grins and picks up the dildo and the bottle of lube.

He upends the bottle of lube and pops the cap, squeezing a liberal amount down the crack of Derek’s ass, and over his hole, where it drips down off his balls and onto Stiles’ bed sheets.

“What the hell Stiles?” Derek says, turning back to look at him. Stiles has to admit it was a bit over kill. “It’s an ass hole not a slip’n’slide!”

“I’m just trying to be prepared!” Stiles shouts, indignant. He can hear Derek sigh, but it turns into a soft drawn out moan when Stiles slides the dildo up him rotating it as he goes, collecting the excess lube. He replaces it with his fingers, dropping the toy onto the bed and spreading Derek open with his other hand. Derek’s hips stutter back toward him, rolling as he Derek wriggles on his knees. Stiles grins, can’t help it, before he’s sliding his middle finger into Derek.

He fucks him open, Derek going still and silent as he does it, one finger turning to two and then three and Derek starts canting his hips back, and moaning, face pressed into his forearms. He reaches behind him then, fumbles back to grip at the back of Stiles’ thighs and ass and squeezing.

“Fuck, just the dildo, _please_ ,” he’s moaning now, hand scrabbling in the sheets. Stiles complies willingly, spits on the dildo like he’s seen in porn, aims pretty terribly and hits Derek’s thigh instead.

“Oops.” Derek just shakes his head where he’s watching Stiles’ progress and Stiles pops the cap on the lube and squeezes more out.

“Hurry _up_.”

“God you’re so pushy.”

“And you’re annoying.”

Stiles huffs out an indignant sigh and stands up, Derek looks up at him in confusion.

“Werewolf powers activate,” Stiles tells him and Derek quirks a brow. “I’m gonna sit on you,” Stiles explains.

“What… no never mind, sure yeah,” Derek nods. Stiles swings his leg over Derek and straddles his lower back, wriggling a bit to test Derek’s strength, he doesn’t budge. He leans forward, slides the dildo back up and down, over Derek’s balls and perineum, teasing at his hole. Derek’s hips gyrate beneath him and Stiles smirks before pressing the head of the dildo into him. Derek stills beneath him, breathing heavily, skin flushed and slicked with sweat as Stiles penetrates him. He goes slow, but Derek is clenching and unclenching around the dildo as it slides inside him.

“Whoa!” Stiles shouts, “it’s like it’s just sucking it in, your ass is a black hole, Derek,” he says, fascinated. Derek lets out what Stiles thinks is an involuntary sort of snort, his shoulders dipping back towards the bed, Stiles bouncing on his back as he huffs out a frustrated sort of laugh.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek grits out, “I am going to kill you,” it’s a breathy sort of threat, hampered by the way he spreads his legs a little more and chokes off a moan.

“Yeah, I’d like to see that headline: ‘Werewolf Bludgeons Teenager with Recently Used Dildo’.”

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, but he’s laughing openly now and Stiles has to hang on to his ass as he’s jostled up and down with the force of it. “Just shut _up_ , and fuck me,” he demands. Stiles rearranges himself atop Derek’s broad back and does just that, working the dildo in and out at a slow snail pace while Derek moves to fuck himself back on it, gasping and groaning as Stiles quickens the pace, thrusting it in and out in hard, deep strokes that have Derek keening low and hot, the sound twisting low in Stiles’ stomach and making his cock jump.

Eventually he pulls the dildo free and Derek whines, reaches a hand back, to scrabble at Stiles’ skin. Stiles pushes his hand away and leans forward, clutching at Derek’s ass for support as he buries his face in him, upside down and a bit awkward. He licks over Derek’s fucked open hole, wet with lube, and Derek makes this broken mewling noise Stiles wants as a fucking _ringtone_. He grins and shoves his tongue as far in as he can until Derek is panting and whining beneath him.

“Fuck, fuck I’m gonna,” he cries, and he tips Stiles over as he rolls, and Stiles is pinned beneath Derek in a flash and he grins up at him, “fuck,” Derek hisses, jerking himself off over Stiles, coming with his head tilted back, mouth parted, skin hot and wet and flushed beneath Stiles’ hands. Derek comes in spurts against Stiles’ chest, over his abdomen and up his neck, fist working frenzied, pumping him. Stiles knocks Derek’s hand away and jerks him off, milking the last tiny drop of come to splash down his hand and wrist.

“Wow,” Stiles nods.

“My turn,” Derek says, breath coming in sharp inhalations. Derek reaches for the dildo, still slicked up, and he shifts until he can shove Stiles’ legs up, bending them towards his chest. Stiles clutches at the back of his thighs and holds himself open, flushing hot at the way he’s on display.

“Okay, but…” Stiles starts, looking up at Derek earnest, and slightly nervous.

“What?” Derek asks, his brows knit together.

“Don’t treat my ass like a usb hub, okay?” Stiles requests. Derek rolls his eyes.

“I’m not gonna break the dildo off in your ass!”

“That’s comforting, you should try hooking, that’s be great on a business card.”

“Stop talking,” Derek tells him, and he kisses away the retort, tongue shoving roughly at Stiles’. The head of the dildo slips in while he’s busy distracting Stiles. He drops his head back against the bed and adjusts the feel of the dildo pushing into him.

“God,” he sighs, voice high and cracking. He’s never done it like this before, never had anyone else pushing inside him. He doesn’t know the next move, hard or fast, slow and careful, or rough and frenzied. It pushes past his prostate and he arches his back, unable to do anything in this position but take it.

“Fuck yeah,” Derek moans, low, as he pulls the dildo out and pushes it back in, fucking him in an even rhythm before slowing down and pulling out all the way. Stiles makes a keening whine, mouth falling open, staring up at Derek with wide eyes, Derek shoves the dildo back in and Stiles’ voice goes breathy and high on a moan, and Derek keeps doing it. Pulls all the way out and waits until Stiles brows draw together in desperation before he pushes it back in, all the way, long deep thrusts.

“ _Harder_ ,” Stiles begs, and Derek nods, leaning over him and sucking kisses into his shoulder as he fucks him relentlessly with the dildo, hand moving to jerk him a few times. On one more up stroke Stiles curses out Derek’s name in a litany and comes, hard between them, dick jerking in Derek’s tight grip, spilling between them, his come mixing with Derek’s already cooling into his skin.

Derek pulls the dildo out of Stiles slowly, he winces slightly at it, before Derek drops it onto the bed beside them and then plasters himself to Stiles’ chest, pulling his face in for a kiss. They make out lazily for a long time before Stiles pulls away, sucking in a lungful of air.

“10/10 would recommend,” he nods, seriously and Derek shakes his head on a laugh and buries his face in Stiles’ neck.

 

_epilogue_

It’s about a week later when Stiles and Scott are playing Call of Duty in Stiles’ living room and Scott raises his head, ear turned toward the open window and says, “I think the UPS guy is here.” Sure enough a couple of minutes later there’s a knock on the door and Stiles hits Scott on the nose playfully and says, “no attacking, _stay_!” And Scott scowls in irritation.

“That only happened once, and it was the _full moon_ ,” he gripes. Stiles laughs and pulls the door open, signs for the package and waves the delivery man off politely.

“What is it?” Scott asks, and Stiles shrugs.

“No idea, I don’t remember ordering anything.” He shoves the package at Scott who cuts it open with a sharp claw and Stiles smiles proudly.

“I love werewolves.” Scott rolls his eyes and tugs the package open nosily, before Stiles can take it back.

“ _Duuuude_ ,” Scott says, look of horror on his face, shoving it back at Stiles.

“What is it—oh my _God_!” Stiles shouts, letting the cardboard box fall to the ground as he pulls out a—

“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is?” Scott says, a bit morosely.

“If you think it’s a double headed dildo than okay, I won’t tell you,” Stiles says.

“It’s _pink_ ,” Scott moans. Stiles flushes and shoves it back in the box.

“It’s clearly a joke!” Stiles says, maniacally.

“Oh _God_! You’re _lying_ ,” Scott moans again, pushing the thing across the floor. “Dude, I love you and you can put whatever you want wherever you want with whoever you want but _duuuude_ ,” Scott reiterates.

“Let’s just play!” Stiles shouts.

“ _Duuuuude_.”

Derek laughs until he’s hoarse when Stiles calls to yell at him later, but Stiles retaliates the next day when the whole pack is crammed into Derek’s Camaro. Stiles commandeers the ipod jack and flips through his songs, blasting ‘Supermassive Black Hole’ and serenading him, laughing himself stupid at the look Derek shoots him in the rearview mirror; everyone but Erica looks at him in utter confusion.


End file.
